Switched
by Moonshimmer Shadow-Phoenix
Summary: Kurt Hummel and Carson Phillips are two utterly different people. Born and raised in different cities with different families, interests, friends and personalities. Both of their worlds are turned completely upside down when they wake up as each other. They don't know how it happened, but if they want to fix it they need to figure it out. Canon Pairings/storyline. Season 3. R&R!
1. Prologue

**Switched**

A/N: This is a crossover between Chris Colfer's "Struck By Lightning" (film and book versions mixed), and Ryan Murphy's "Glee". What happens when two seventeen year old boys, born on the same day at the same time, thirty three and a half hours away from each other, three hours apart in time difference, to two different mothers, wake up one day in each other's bodies? No one can tell them apart, and they seem to have somehow swapped lives, and it's up to them to figure out what happened and how to fix it.

I own nothing, not Glee, SBL, and certainly not the 'Freaky Friday'-esque concept. This is set in March, between the episodes "On My Way" and "Big Brother", since no episode aired in March, 2012. It's written in 3rd Person's POV, and focuses on whichever of the boys I'm writing as in that particular moment.

Enjoy! And please leave a review after you're finished. I'll try to get the first 'real' chapter up ASAP, and you can expect it before Monday.

* * *

><p><strong><em>Chapter One: Prologue<em>**

* * *

><p><strong>-<strong> _Friday, March 16th, 2012 _

_5:17 PM (Pacific Time)_

_Clover High School (Clover, Fresno County, California) **-**_

Carson Phillips had a very rare smile on his face as he stepped outside of the school, looking up at the dark, cloudy sky on the verge of a storm, wind whipping through his hair as he gazed around the vacant student parking lot. He had made the decision rather unexpectedly, to add something new to his Literary Magazine, the Clovergate.

Sure, he might not get into Northwestern University early this year, but there was always next year and many after that. And he refused to give up. He wouldn't let anyone hold him back - not the teachers at the school, the clueless student councilor, his hostile peers, or Sheryl Phillips (he refused to acknowledge her as his mother again until she showed even the slightest bit of remorse for what she'd done to him).

His addition was made solely as a dedication to his dreams, and to his grandmother, the only person in the world besides Malerie who had ever been supportive of him.

Letting out a light sigh, unable to wipe the grin away, he clutched his books to his chest as he walked towards his car. The sound of his own footsteps was drowned out by a sudden roar of thunder.

And then he was struck by lightning.

Not in the sense that he was suddenly hit by an idea so fantastic it made everything around him freeze, and not in the way he had told Malerie getting an idea felt like either. This time it was real, and nothing he had ever been through could compare to what he was experiencing.

It was only a fraction of a second, but it felt so much longer. All the hair on his body rose with the jolt, he felt like he was on fire as the most unbearable (physical) pain he'd ever experienced surged through him. He felt his heart stop briefly as if it had struck him in the chest, and it hurt so badly he didn't even feel when he was knocked off his feet and hit the ground - hard.

His eyes were closed and he couldn't open them, he tried to call for help but his mouth just wouldn't form the words. He suddenly felt very heavy, his head was pounding, and before he knew it he was slipping into unconsciousness, his body going limp on the concrete ground.

* * *

><p><em>- Friday, March 16th, 2012<em>

_8:17 PM (Eastern Time)_

_Lima, Allen County Ohio (Hudson-Hummel Residence)_

Kurt Hummel was in a very good mood tonight. It was Friday evening and he'd just phoned his amazing boyfriend goodnight, and was now getting ready for bed. Normally, he wouldn't be heading to sleep so early, but he was having brunch with Blaine tomorrow and he wanted to look ,his best, not to mention Saturday night he was having a sleepover at his house with his girlfriends, something they'd been doing once a month for the last couple of years. Normally it would be at Rachel's, but tomorrow and Sunday Finn would be crashing at Puck's place with some of the guys for a Call of Duty marathon or whatever, so they decided to have it at his place.

He had to wake up early to look his best and having bags under his eyes was something he hated trying to work with, because no one but a goth could pull off that look.

After getting out of the shower and drying himself off, he picked out some pajamas - his Alexander McQueen grey leopard print sweater and silk blend leopard print pajama pants - they didn't go together technically, but he bent the rules 'cause of how amazing they looked. Plus even though it was technically Spring, it was still unreasonably cold so he would stay nice and warm all throughout the night.

Once he had completed his nighttime moisturizing ritual, gone to the washroom and brushed his teeth, he headed downstairs to say goodnight and get a drink. He passed his stepbrother's room, and was unsurprised to hear him gabbing away with Rachel on the phone, so he merely mouthed 'night' to him, earning a smile and a wave, as he headed downstairs, nearly tripping over Finn's stupid football which was in the middle of the stairs for some reason. A tad annoyed, he picked it up and tossed it upwards, causing it to disappear out of his sight. Good. He continued down.

On his way to the kitchen he saw his father sprawled out in the couch watching a surprisingly chick-flick film, with a sleeping Carole curled up his arms, making him smile brightly. It was sweet, how they were together. Even if his intentions had been less than pure at the time, he didn't regret bringing the two together because of how happy they clearly were. And he had a brother, something he never thought would happen after his mother had passed away. They seemed content, so he didn't disturb them, but Burt noticed anyway, "Going to bed early, son?" he asked, his voice soft so as not to wake his wife.

"Yeah, big day tomorrow," Kurt nodded in response, running his fingers through his soft, still damp hair. "I'll see you tomorrow Dad."

"Night Kurt," Burt said with a smile, "Sleep tight."

"Thanks, you too."

Still smiling as he headed to the kitchen, he poured himself a glass of juice before turning to head back upstairs. He wasn't pay much attention as he sipped his OJ while walking up, and didn't notice the football from earlier resting on the very top stair until he stepped on it. He squeaked when he felt it and reached out to grab the railing but lost his balance in the process, tripping backwards as the glass flew out of his hands.

What happened next was sort of blurry. Kurt could feel himself falling down the long staircase, it felt slow-motion, but before he knew it a sharp shooting pain ran up the back of his skull.

The last thing he heard before everything went black was someone yelling his name in panic.

* * *

><p>Kinda of long for just a prologue, I know. But once I got into it I couldn't stop. Hope I didn't okay, I don't have much experience writing as either of these characters, but I'll try my best to keep them IC.<p> 


	2. Waking Up

**Switched**

A/N: This is a crossover between Chris Colfer's "Struck By Lightning" (film and book versions mixed), and Ryan Murphy's "Glee". What happens when two seventeen year old boys, born on the same day at the same time, thirty three and a half hours away from each other, three hours apart in time difference, to two different mothers, wake up one day in each other's bodies? No one can tell them apart, and they seem to have somehow swapped lives, and it's up to them to figure out what happened and how to fix it.

I own nothing, not Glee, SBL, and certainly not the 'Freaky Friday'-esque concept. This is set in March, between the episodes "On My Way" and "Big Brother", since no episode aired in March, 2012. It's written in 3rd Person's POV, and focuses on whichever of the boys I'm writing as in that particular moment.

Enjoy! And please leave a review after you're finished. I'll try to get the first 'real' chapter up ASAP, and you can expect it before Monday.

* * *

><p><strong><em>Chapter Two: Waking Up<em>**

* * *

><p><strong>-<strong> _Saturday, March 17th, 2012 _

_8:43 AM (Pacific Time)_

_Clover Medical Center (Clover, Fresno County, California) **-**_

The very first thing that Kurt became aware of as he started to come to was that 1) his head was killing him, and 2) he had no idea where he was. It took a moment for the pain to ebb away, and only then did he managed to force his bright blue eyes open.

And he immediately had the desire to shut them again. He was assaulted by a bright white light that made his head spin even more than it already was. His back was aching too, like he'd been sleeping on concrete all night. It didn't take him long to realize he was in a hospital, though the irritating beeping coming from beside him and the horribly uncomfortable bed helped him draw that conclusion.

When his eyes finally adjusted, he tried to lift his head and look around, but he felt weak and tired, and an uncharacteristic "Uhhhh..." sound left his mouth.

"Carson?" he heard an unfamiliar, but distinctly feminine voice speak to him.

He tried to ask, _'Who?' _but his mouth was dry and he couldn't speak.

A woman with dark brunette hair and tired, but still pretty, pale blue eyes looked down at him as he focused harder. She had a tanned complexion, and lines of worry around her face, but more than anything he noticed that she was wearing a really expensive-looking shirt.

"Carson!" She exclaimed more loudly and he winced, which didn't go unnoticed as she immediately lowered her tone, "Oh my God, I'm so glad you're alright. When they said you'd been in an accident at school and you were unconscious I was so worried, don't you ever scare me like that again!"

Who was this person? Why did she keep calling him Carson? He could tell, whoever she was, she was worried about him. He almost wanted to smile and comfort her - it was a Hummel thing - but he didn't know how. When he could speak he would tell her that she probably was in the wrong room...

Speaking of which, it reminded him of what happened. The last thing he remembered was falling down the stairs because of Finn's stupid football. That cleared a few things up - like why he was in the hospital and felt hungover despite restraining himself from drinking anything alcoholic after the Miss Pillsbury-Shoe-Vomiting incident, as he called it. But it didn't explain where his own family was... getting coffee?

He felt tired, he could really use coffee.

Just as he stared imagining that last time he drank a delicious mocha, a man in his early forties entered the room. He could tell immediately by his attire that it was a doctor. Thank the numerous Gods he didn't believe in, maybe this man could set the poor woman straight and help her find her son (he assumed she was a mother based on her worry and the fact that she confused him, a seventeen year old, with someone she knew).

"Dad..." he managed to croak out, trying to ask where his father was.

The woman immediately looked distraught, "He's not here, Kid. He's with his fiancée. The bastard, can't be here for his only son while he's in the hospital..." she muttered to herself.

Now Kurt felt extremely confused. His Dad was married to Carole, not engaged. And while he only had one biological child, his father was anything but a bastard, and he knew without a doubt his Dad would be at his side for any medical emergency. What the hell was going on?

Trying to voice his complaints and concerns, Kurt managed to push himself up into a sitting position, his body aching with the effort it took. He must have really fallen hard to be in this much pain, the bruises were going to be a bitch to cover up, he could tell even though he hadn't seen them yet, "Who...who are you?" he asked, wondering why the doctor hadn't spoken yet. He was asking both him and the woman.

Immediately, the brunette lady looked to the doctor, "What's going on! I thought you said he was okay!"

The doctor frowned, though he didn't seem surprised, "Hold on a second." He pulled up a chair to sit down across from Kurt, "Son, can you tell me what you last remember?"

Uh-oh... where was this going? How long had he been unconscious? Was he...had he been in a coma? Is that why his family wasn't here? Panic immediately consumed the teenager as he leaned forward, his breathing quickened along with his heart monitor, on the verge of hyperventilating.

"Carson!"

"Hey, it's okay." The doctor's hand was on his shoulder, and normally that would have bothered him, but he found the touch somewhat comforting at the moment, "It's okay, kid. Calm down. Just take a deep breath, and try to answer the question."

Shakily, Kurt inhaled and exhaled deeply, trying to calm his nerves. "I... I remember getting ready for bed..." he began, swallowing hard against the dryness in his throat, "I said goodnight to my dad and stepbrother," the doctor and woman exchanged worried looks, "I got a drink and went to my room...but I tripped and fell down the stairs, I guess I hit my head?" he decided not to add the football part, he didn't care too much if a couple of strangers just thought he was clumsy.

"I was worried something like this might happen," the doctor sighed, "He might have sustained some head trauma when the lightning hit, I'll have him scheduled for a Head CT as quickly as possible to assess the immediate damage."

"Wait, what lightning? What's wrong with my head?" The countertenor was beginning to panic slightly again, "Where's my dad? I want to see him. And Carole? Why aren't they here?"

The woman reached out to take his hand, "Carson, look-"

"No!" Kurt exclaimed, quickly yanking his hands away and crossing his arms, not wanting her to touch him, "I want to know what's going on? Why do you keep calling me that, my name is Kurt."

"No, it isn't." The doctor told him seriously, "Your name is Carson Phillips. You were struck by lightning yesterday afternoon, it left you unconscious and I fear caused some form of amnesia. Don't worry, we're going to figure this out, son, until then you can go home., Mrs. Phillips-"

"Miss." She corrected.

"Right, if you'll just sign a few papers we can release him into your custody."

"Why are you ignoring what I'm telling you?" Kurt demanded, his voice raising an octave as he began to feel frightened at this point, "My name isn't Carson, it's Kurt. Kurt Hummel! You're making a mistake, I'm here because I hit my head. And I don't know this woman!"

The brunette looked a bit frustrated, "The doctor knows what he's talking about Carson, I'm your mother and you can come home now. I know we haven't spoken since the fight, but you don't want to stay with your father anyway, after what he did."

Kurt was becoming hysterical now. He was confused and - quite honestly - scared. He didn't know what was happening, but it felt like some ultra-realistic nightmare. Sheryl Phillips and Doctor Stanley tried their best to calm him and explain things but when he started fighting to get away from, he had a nurse administer a muscle relaxant (with Sheryl yelling for her to be careful, her son hated needles), which forcefully calmed him down. Then they went to check him out.

* * *

><p><em>- Saturday, March 17th, 2012<em>

_11:43 AM (Eastern Time)_

_Lima Memorial Health System (Lima, Allen County, Ohio) - _

As soon as Carson woke up he immediately - and with irritation - realized he was in the hospital. He didn't open his eyes, but he honestly wasn't ready to face whatever was waiting for him. It took him a few seconds to figure out what happened. He remembered leaving the school, and how stormy it was, and how happy he was for the first time in so long. And then...

_'I was struck by lightning. I was actually struck, in the head, by lightning.' _He wasn't sure whether to laugh or not. It just seemed like some kind of karmic retribution from above, if he believed in that sort of thing. He did blackmail the most popular kids at school after all. He supposed it could have been worse, he could be dead or in a coma.

But fuck, if his head wasn't hurting like hell right now. He expected it to be more painful than it was. The stories he had read about this sort of thing happening described way worse than what he was experiencing. This wasn't any more painful than that time one of the asshole jocks at his school hit him in the face with a basketball in his sophomore year.

Eventually realizing he wouldn't just fall asleep and get to enjoy some blissful nothingness for awhile, he decided to focus more on his surroundings. He was in a lumpy bed - that's how he knew it was a hospital, along with his heart monitor - he was also unusually warm.

After a few moments, he noticed an unfamiliar sensation.

Someone was holding his hand.

That made his eyes fly open instantly. Who the heck was holding his hand? He couldn't imagine anyone but Malerie trying to touch him like that, and they'd already established his 'personal space' boundaries (even if she tended to break that rule on occasion).

He heard a collective group of relieved sighs, followed by a low, male voice, "Oh, Kurt. I'm so glad you're awake. You scared the heck out of us."

_'Kurt? Who the fuck was that?' _Trying to ignore the pounding in the back of his skull, he turned his head to the right, to see a group of people standing there. They were all unfamiliar.

A well dressed woman in her thirties was standing beside a man - the one holding his hand - sitting beside him. He was bald, but his baseball cap mostly covered that up, and he had a kind expression on his face, eyes crinkled up with worry. Standing off to the side was a sasquatch of a teenager, he was tall and built large in the shoulders, with dark hair and eyes, and he seemed to be a mix of concerned and bored at the same time.

"Who are you?" Carson demanded when he found his voice, ripping his hand from the strange male's, not missing the flash of shock and hurt in his green eyes when he did so.

"Kurt?" The woman asked worriedly, and the tall boy stepped forward, "Hey man, are you alright? Your head messed up or something?"

"Oh, I'm fine," he said sarcastically as he pulled himself up into a sitting position, "Just feel like I got hit in the head by light-oh that's right," for some reason they didn't seem to get the joke. Whatever. "I don't know you people. And stop calling me Kurt, Godzilla. You've got me confused with someone else." It was too early for this bullshit. Not that he could tell for sure since his watch was gone. "Is there a doctor or something I can talk to? I'm not dead, hurray, so I want to leave. Hospitals are one of the most depressing places I can think of, following a burning church and my school on a daily basis."

The teenager with the dopey expression seemed to be a little freaked out now, since he started backing up towards the door, "I-I'll go get the doctor."

"What are you staring at?" Carson demanded when he saw the looks the man and woman were giving him, "Do I have something on my face? If not, kindly leave my room, I want to get changed and get the hell out of here."

* * *

><p>Not exactly how I expected this to go, but I'm just trying to mirror how I think they would in this sort of situation. Kurt would probably be confused and scared, while Carson would be annoyed andor pissed off.

Leave a review and tell me what you think!


	3. Going Home (Part 1)

**Switched**

A/N: This is a crossover between Chris Colfer's "Struck By Lightning" (film and book versions mixed), and Ryan Murphy's "Glee". What happens when two seventeen year old boys, born on the same day at the same time, thirty three and a half hours away from each other, three hours apart in time difference, to two different mothers, wake up one day in each other's bodies? No one can tell them apart, and they seem to have somehow swapped lives, and it's up to them to figure out what happened and how to fix it.

I own nothing, not Glee, SBL, and certainly not the 'Freaky Friday'-esque concept. This is set in March, between the episodes "On My Way" and "Big Brother", since no episode aired in March, 2012. It's written in 3rd Person's POV, and focuses on whichever of the boys I'm writing as in that particular moment.

**_Chapter Three: Going "Home" (Part 1, Kurt)_**

* * *

><p><strong>-<strong> _Saturday, March 17th, 2012 _

_9:30 AM (Pacific Time)_

_Phillips Residence (Clover, Fresno County, California) **-**_

Kurt was trembling slightly as the woman - Sheryl, the doctor had called her - drove him to her house. He wasn't sure what to do in this situation, because he never thought it would happen. What was going on here? Did he hit his head so hard he was hallucinating? Had he gone crazy? Was this some sort of Freaky Friday thing going on? Maybe he was being Punk'd? (Maybe he'd get to meet Ashton Kutcher?).

Well, it was impossible for most of those things to happen, so he decided to go with the dream scenario, if only to save his sanity. He tried his best to relax, he'd wake up soon and everything would be okay again. He'd go on his date with Blaine, then spent the night hanging out with his closest friends, gossiping and watching their favorite movies.

Besides, the doctor even said he had no visible brain damage, and while that meant they thought he was making stuff up for whatever reason, he knew that everything would be okay.

He hoped.

After getting dressed in the clothes she had brought him she had convinced him to come with her. They weren't ugly or uncomfortable - faded jeans and a blue dress shirt - in fact they were a perfect fit for him in every way, right down to the sneakers, but they just weren't him. It was either that or a paper thin hospital gown though, so he had hurried into the washroom to change.

As the woman drove, Kurt looked out the passenger side window, noticing how similar this city, which he learned was in California, was quite similar to Lima. Small and uninteresting.

If he was going to have a freaky body switching dream, why couldn't it have been with someone like Lady Gaga, or one of the British royals? Couldn't he have dreamed up being in New York or something better than this? The only reason he was going with this woman was because he had no idea where to go or what to do right now. He needed time to think, figure out what was going on.

He was silent the entire way, and when they arrived he immediately got out of the car and examined the area. The house was fairly modest but still nice, a single story, white with a dark roof and trim, a full garden with a cute little porch. To him it looked like an idealistic family home, but once he got inside it became glaringly obvious that no happy family lived here.

It was dark and somewhat messy, nice décor and furniture, with the faint smell of alcohol lingering, the shades were drawn, there was a hole in the screen outer door, and yet none of those things were what made it off-putting.

The place felt...cold, and not just in temperature. It was lifeless, like it had been abandoned or left alone for years. There was no love in this place, and it gave him an uneasy feeling in his stomach.

"Well, we're here. It's early so you can go back to sleep or whatever," Sheryl said as she made her way over to the couch, which looked like someone had been living on it for months (or years). She flopped down unceremoniously, and reached for a bottle of pills.

Kurt stood there, silently, awkwardly, shifting from one foot to the other until the woman eventually looked over at him, "What?" she asked, her tone was harsher than before, and it surprised him.

"I, uh...where do I..." he paused for a moment, deciding to phrase his question differently, "Where is...my room?" For some reason everyone seemed convinced he was this Carson kid, so until he figured out what the hell was happening, he'd have to go along with it.

Her piercing eyes stared at him hard for a moment, as if trying to decide whether or not he was being sarcastic, before she settled back down and answered, "Down the hall, to the right."

He nodded mutely and headed that way, keeping his head down until he arrived at the room and closed the door. When he looked around, he was slightly taken off guard by how...normal the room looked. There was a neatly made bed, a desk with a laptop sitting on it, it had a closet with one suit and some button down shirts hung up, along with some hoodies and jackets. There was a dresser, and the usual.

Unsure what to do with himself, he walked over and sat down on the bed, uncomfortably. It felt wrong, but he couldn't help but peek in the drawer of the bedside table. He wanted to know more about this person he had supposedly become, maybe it could help him figure out what was going on? Snooping was okay in this case.

He didn't find much of interest - some homework-in-progress, school supplies, an unopened candy bar, and... a notebook.

After hesitating for a moment, he reached in and picked it up. It looked like a regular work exercise notebook, a perfectly sharpened pencil tucked into the spirals. He opened the cover and was surprised to find that more than half the book had been torn out. Like it had been used for something and then he decided to use it as a journal.

Because that's exactly what it was.

Not having anything better to do at the moment, he settled down on the bed and started reading. It was evident in the first few paragraphs that this Carson guy was intelligent, and he wrote well, neatly and eloquently.

_Dear Journal, _it began.

_One more school year with these shitheads and I'll be free. _Kurt couldn't help but chuckle at that, it sounded so...teenager, and he would know.

_It's taken almost two decades of careful planning, but I'm proud to say my overdue departure from the town of Clover is only days away. Three hundred and forty-five days away, to be exact, but who's counting?_

_'This kid sure hates his school.'_ Kurt mused to himself, not that he blamed him. He used to hate school as well, and sometimes he still did.

_A year from now I'll be sitting in my dorm room at Northwestern University taking notes from some overpriced textbook about "the history of…," you know, something historical. I'll be living off Top Ramen and gallons of Red Bull. I'll barely be getting five hours of sleep a night, and that's only when I don't have to yell at my roommate to turn down his porn. _

It seemed like he already had his whole future mapped out, which was a good thing. It also reminded Kurt of him and Rachel.

_I know it doesn't sound like much to look forward to, but for this college-bound kid, it's paradise! All the suffering, now and later, is for a much bigger picture._

_It's not much of a secret since I tell anyone who will listen (mostly to get them to stop talking to me), but one day I hope to become the youngest freelance journalist to be published in the New York Times, the Los Angeles Times, the Chicago Tribune, and the Boston Globe, eventually making my way to editor of the New Yorker._

"Big aspirations and a lot of confidence will only get you so far..." He murmured to himself out loud as he read on. It seems like a lot of people his age that came from small towns wanted to go to New York. Maybe it was that small-town kids wanted to go to the big city, but people raised in the city prefer quiet lives? That was a theory someone should look into...but not him.

_Yes, I know that was a lot of information, so take a minute if you need one._ "He sounds like a jerk though." _If it sounds overwhelming to you, just think about how I feel living up to my future self every day. It's exhausting!_

_In a decade, if all goes according to plan, things will be much better for me. I can see it now: I'll be sitting in my New York City apartment applying final touches to my weekly New York Times column. I'll be living off Thai food and bottles of the finest red wine. I'll be sleeping ten hours a night, even when I have to yell at my neighbor to turn down his porn._

_Granted, I still have a year to go in high school, and senior year at that. And I do realize I haven't actually been "accepted" to Northwestern yet, but those are just minor technicalities. Since we're on the subject, I should also mention that I'm well aware Northwestern doesn't send out early acceptance letters until December 15, but, fearing that I may apply somewhere else, I'm sure they've made an exception for me. I'm positive my acceptance letter is on its way from the admissions office and will soon be in my eager hands as I write this…right?_

He liked Carson's confidence, it also reminded Kurt of himself, in a way. Not so much when he was younger, but these days he felt a lot better about himself, thanks to the people around him.

_I wouldn't be surprised if I was the first applicant. I stayed up half the night to submit my application as soon as the admissions website opened at 6 a.m. Chicago time on the first day. Now it's just a waiting game…and waiting has never been my forte. _Patience wasn't Kurt's strong point either.

_I can't imagine why they wouldn't accept me. When they read my transcripts they'll see I'm a very liberal-minded young man in a very obstinate world begging to be rescued by means of education: a diamond in a pile of cow shit, if you will. That and the fact that I'm one-sixteenth Native American and one-thirty-second African American (okay, that part I can't actually prove) should make me an admissions jackpot!_

_Even if that doesn't work, my high school career should speak for itself. I've kept my grade point average at an impressive 4.2 since freshman year. I've single-handedly edited the Clover High Chronicle since sophomore year, and I've managed to keep the Writers' Club alive after school despite its apparent death wish._

"Sounds a lot like the Glee Club." He murmured.

_Not bad for a kid in a town where the most common intellectual question is, Will he actually eat the green eggs and ham?_

That actually made Kurt chuckle briefly before he shushed himself.

_I'm kidding (sort of). Look, I don't mean to constantly harp on my hometown. I suppose Clover has some good qualities too…I just can't think of any off the top of my head._

He cracked a grin, "Just like Lima."

_Clover is a place where the pockets are small but the minds are even smaller. It's tiny and conservative, and most of the people are really set on living and dying here. Personally, I've never been able to hop on the bandwagon and have been publicly chastised because of it. Having aspirations to leave makes me the black sheep of the community._

_I'm sorry; I just can't muster up pride for a town whose most cosmopolitan area is the Taco Bell parking lot on a Saturday night. And although I've never lived anywhere else, I'm pretty sure normal Sweet Sixteens don't consist of group cow-tipping._

_When they built the first movie theater here, people lost their damn minds. I was only three, but I still remember people crying and cartwheeling in the streets. The line to see You've Got Mail circled the town._

_I pray we never get an airport—who knows what kind of cult-sacrificial suicides might occur?_

Pausing for a moment, Kurt had to wonder if this Carson was purposely being dramatic - what was the point of being sarcastic in a private journal meant only for your eyes? If not, then he seriously seemed like a depressed and jaded kid.

_Yeah, I'm a little bitter because I'm one of those kids: bottom of the food chain, constantly teased, despised, an annoyance to everyone around them, most likely to find a pile of flaming manure on the roof of their car (oh yeah, it happened), but what prevents my life from being a sad after-school special is I don't give a shiiiit. I can't reiterate enough, this town is full of morons!_

This made Kurt somber, the words striking close to his heart. He had pretty much described his entire childhood from age eight to age sixteen in that one paragraph.

Suddenly, he felt embarrassed and ashamed. Even if he really did believe this was a dream (he was still trying to convince himself it was a nightmare, not reality), he felt guilty for looking through someone else's journal. God knows how much he would hate it if someone else invaded his personal, private thoughts without his permission and mentally commented on everything he had said or done.

As if it had suddenly scalded him, he quickly snapped the notebook shut and shoved it back into the drawer, perhaps with more force than necessary. Taking a deep breath to calm himself down, he decided to look around some more, something less personal.

Getting up, he sat down at the desk with the laptop on it that he had noticed earlier. Maybe he could find out where the hell he was? Quickly opening it up, he moved the mouse and was surprised to find it hadn't been logged off from it's last use. There was an open document with all sorts of writing with different names underneath - it looked like he was writing some kind of digital magazine.

Saving and closing it, he opened up a Google search, and typed in a question that he hoped would work, "Current Location".

It took seconds to work.

"Oh...my God."

**_Clover, Fresno County, California, is a city with a population of 9,525 (as of 2011), was built on former farmland in 19-_**

He stopped reading there, frozen in place.

California.

He was in California, that was like eight states away!

"This can't be happening to me." It seemed like the situation was starting to really sink in for the first time, a delayed reaction. He was so far away from his home, in somebody else's house, after waking up in a hospital with strangers telling him he was somebody that he wasn't.

But wait... if that was true, then where was the person he was supposedly? At his house?

'_I am getting way too ahead of myself.' _Kurt told himself sternly, trying to keep his cool and failing miserably. He had to figure out a way to get back, but first he needed to figure how he was going to get out of this house without that woman questioning him...

School!

Carson was his age, right? He had supposedly been at school when the accident happened, didn't the doctor say something like that?

"I need to learn more." He muttered, a look of determination crossing his face. In order to figure out whatever the hell was going on - nightmare or not - he needed to know more about this Carson kid.

* * *

><p>"There's like nothing in here." Kurt sighed in frustration, flipping through Carson's journal rapidly. Privacy be damned, if there had been anything in there that could give him answers he would have found it, but there was nothing! He was about to toss the book across the room in anger when something fell out from between the pages.<p>

Huh?

It was a photograph, he picked it up and examined it, his mouth dropping open in shock. "B-but...but that's _me_. How is that possible?" He didn't understand it, but the boy in the photo was him, from when he was about eight years old. But how was that possible? There were almost no pictures of him once his mom had died, it was just too sad to make memories without her. But the kid in this picture was standing with Sheryl and an unfamiliar dark-haired man, probably his father. He was dressed normally, but his dark chestnut hair and bright blue eyes flecked with green and gray... it was Kurt, they were mirror images.

What the hell was going on here? Did he have a twin?

No, that was impossible. Kurt had seen video footage of his birth - it had scarred him for life after all - there was only one baby, him! So how was it possible that a kid who looked exactly like him grew up in this town, completely apart from him?

* * *

><p>It was a few hours later when the door opened, making Kurt visibly jump. He had spent the last while ransacking "his" bedroom, looking for anything that might clue him into this kid's past or how any of this was possible, with little success.<p>

He looked up to see Sheryl standing there, leaning against the doorway, "I ordered a pizza, you're favorite." She said, but her voice was slurred - had she been drinking? That was perfect! It might give him the chance to leave sooner than he had planned, if only he had some money on him...

"Thanks, er...Mom?" he said, but phrased it more like a question. It felt weird and wrong to refer to a stranger as his mother. He only had one, and Elizabeth had died when he was still a child. Carole was probably the closest person he'd ever consider to being a mom again.

"Nice to see your brain damage didn't affect your sarcasm," the brunette muttered bitterly, "It'll be here in twenty minutes." She turned and left after that.

Kurt sighed and fell back against the bed, staring at the ceiling. He felt homesick, now that the situation had finally sunk in. He wondered how his family was doing...

* * *

><p><strong>What do you think so far? Carson's chapter is next up!<strong>


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